It's on the door
by Goonlalagoon
Summary: [Series: Leagues and Legends by E. Jade Lomax] By the time Jack left the mountains he didn't want find whoever has his messy scrawl of writing on their skin, spelling out whatever he'd first say to them would be. Neither did Grey. (Platonic Soulmate/soulmark AU)


Series: Leagues and Legends by E. Jade Lomax

Realised I haven't posted any of my fic here for a while, so doing a batch of cross-posting - most of which will be for the Leagues and Legends series, because that's been my go-to for fic for a few months!

* * *

Jack didn't want a soul-mate.

Well, that's technically a lie. He wanted a soul-mate - wanted that unbreakable bond, in whatever form it took, wanted to be worthy of whoever had his words on them in some approximation of his scrawling handwriting, wanted someone at his side, immovable.

They weren't in the Forest. He knew everyone in the Forest, and none of them had matched. They weren't promising words: it's on the door, in a messy scrawl that was perhaps worse than his. So he set out to travel, to see the world and grow, to find the other half of his soul.

He gets sidetracked. Somewhere there's someone with his writing on their arm, but here and now there are people who need saving. Saving other people will always be more important to Jack than his own life.

He has always believed in heroes, an unthinking faith, and he meets George, and follows her like a kicked puppy (then walks beside her for the rest of their lives). Liam refuses to leave, a crooked smile and a knack for stories so beautiful they hurt. Jack is there when he meets Bea, sees their expressions when they recognise the words. Liam is amused, delighted, smiling in a way that melts everyone's resolve. Bea looks resigned, but there's a flicker of warmth in her eyes as well.

Jack trades a grin with George (she has her words covered, bandaged at sixteen and a half, feeling unworthy of something so pure with a dragon dead at her feet. Jack is working to convince her she's wrong, but George doesn't let things go easily, even when they hurt her) and thinks one day. There aren't many doors in their line of work, but he's young. He has time. He has George and Liam at his back, trusts them without thought, and thinks this is probably what having a soul-mate feels like. People who's lives are so entwined with yours that it becomes hard to tease them apart. You only get one soul-mate, but that doesn't make the family you find any less important.

A bullet ricochets off rock. A widow weeps like broken glass.

Jack wonders why he ever wanted to care that deeply - to be cared for that deeply. soul-mates can't be broken, but they can be lost, torn away, and for the first time Jack thinks it maybe isn't worth it. He can never stop trying to save people, and he doesn't want anyone to weep over his corpse the way Bea crumbles over Liam's.

The gunshot echoes in his ears, and Jack thinks he doesn't deserve to be cared for like that anyway, not when he led a friend to his death. You cannot save everyone, but Jack felt every failure as a personal blow (George wasn't the only stubborn hero who couldn't let go). He was bloodstained, haunted, and so so tired. Maybe whoever's ink splatter scrawl decorated his wrist deserved to be allowed to dream, rather than face the reality of Jack.

Grey didn't want a soul-mate.

That wasn't quite true either, but for different reasons. Grey wished his had been his sister - soul-mate doesn't mean romance, it doesn't mean lover, it just means two halves of a whole. Two people who click. His sister was the only person Sam Graves could image being completely, unquestionably on his side (she was the only person who ever had been).

Grey buried himself in his books and put it from his mind. He didn't want a soul-mate who he couldn't trust completely, and he didn't have the luxury of letting anyone in entirely. He didn't want to know what kind of person would see Mayor Graves' son and see someone worth living for.

At least his words were common and easily forgotten - What's your name?

Your words weren't necessarily the very first things your soul-mate would say to you, but they came close. They were the moment you first took each other in, accepted that however briefly - or so you thought - your lives were going to run parallel. Grey didn't see Jack still, briefly, at his sniped reply to what he viewed as a pointless question. His name was on the door, written down, so why did this roommate of his need to ask?

Jack read the sign on the door mechanically. S. Grey. A kid. Well, six years wasn't anything between friends, and Jack had been the youngest in his trio by a number of years. It wasn't Grey's age that gave him pause, really. It was his size, the way he was already buried in a book, the inescapable fact that he was alive and so vulnerable to pain. Jack didn't want to be the reason this kid got dragged into dark things.

Grey remained oblivious for the first few weeks. Jack was good at keeping secrets. Some of the ones he kept at the Academy just made him more certain this little sage didn't deserve to be tainted by his presence (a bullet, weeping, a sister Jack didn't have the courage to face).

A bully went after Grey, a scrawny sage who looked like the book he carried was heavy enough to snap his fragile wrists. Jack went after the bully, who looked like a tough brawler and was (but Jack was tougher, was less afraid of injuries, was more used to compensating mid fight for the fact that one arm was now useless, was used to being backed into a corner with his life in the line - more, with others' lives in his hands).

Grey helped bandage him up, long fingers stilling over a familiar scrawl. He wondered how he hadn't recognised the handwriting on Jack's messy, useless notes (Grey had always been good at hiding from things that could hurt him). They had a cold, furious argument about it, these two boys who didn't want the other's heart tied to theirs (didn't think they deserved it, feared the power it would give their life, their death, the poison of their past staining another's life).

After a couple of awkward weeks, Grey thumped a book of soul-mate theory down on Jack's pillow and folded his arms.  
"You bought me a book." Amused, Jack noted that the boy was torn between irritation and bemused gratitude. He didn't want a soul-mate, but Grey loved learning new things.  
"Two books, actually." Grey waved a distracted hand.  
"The other one was an apology for keeping secrets. I want to know why you thought I'd want to read this."  
Jack sighed.  
"We're stuck with this. I figured it might help work out what that means." Grey watched him cautiously, mentally flicking over pages he's read the night before.  
"It means we're probably going to be friends for the rest of our lives, so I suppose I should get used to you being an obnoxious squirrel. I'm not following you off on your monster slaying adventures though."

That was another lie, but they didn't know that yet.


End file.
